


A Remidy for Malady

by PirateQueenCatherine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anxiety, Crimson Flower Route, Gen, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PirateQueenCatherine/pseuds/PirateQueenCatherine
Summary: Byleth is the not-so-secret weapon for the Adrestian Empire, both as a strategic genius and as a morale boost for the ex-students who led Emperor Edelgard's army. But not all of the students are wholly comfortable with her. Bernadetta von Varley doesn't understand her. Her face is numb, emotions seemingly muted. She doesn't think she can trust this woman who used to be her professor.  Something must be done about that.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	A Remidy for Malady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inRemote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inRemote/gifts).



> This is part of a trade with good pal and writer @inRemote. I hope you enjoyed it!

It was said that the turning point in the war for Fódlan was the return of Byleth. Not least for her strategy, her ability to turn any situation in her favour, but for the morale of Emperor Edelgard and her ex-classmates in the Black Eagle Strike Force. The push towards Fhirdiad was as much a military feat as an emotional one for those who had been fighting so long.

And it had been kept a secret, the truth of Byleth. Her identity, her disappearance, her gifts from the goddess. To the population of Fódlan, it was a legend, the truth of which was known only by the professor’s students, the only people she trusted with that information.

This then encouraged a public perception of the Black Eagles: a group of progressives who were natural leaders, founders of a new world. A perfect storm of people who could break through generations of power structures.

The reality, of course, was far more complex. They were complicated people, each with their own goals and beliefs in spite of a common future they would create. Certainly, by the time the church had been dismantled, they were closer than before, but some members of the force had struggled more than others to forge certain connections. Nowhere was this more apparent than Bernadetta’s long-standing confusion whenever Byleth spoke up.

* * *

“Y-you want me to lead a squadron where?” Bernadetta cried.

“If you take the east walls, you’ll be safe from flanks and have a height advantage.” Byleth calmly spoke.

“The location wasn’t the part I was questioning…”

Byleth had already turned away by the time Bernadetta clarified. There was much to be done, and Bernadetta was best at learning through dossiers than through conversation. If you explained how to tie a knot, she’d fall flat on her face, but give her a paper on the matter, and she’d be an expert by the end of the day. And with all the other generals to get through, Bernadetta was one of the easiest to sort out. At least, in Byleth’s mind.

It felt very different for Bernadetta.

Getting Byleth’s attention was difficult. She was always either preoccupied with war room discussions or, on the rare occasion she relaxed, staring out at the water with a fishing rod. There was never a time to talk, explain things, get a little clarification. 

Because Bernadetta was certainly not comfortable leading. She was never a leader, it was the one thing her father instilled that would never be shaken off. Bernadetta, with all her quirks and anxieties, was not someone who should be leading! Let alone taking an entire wall. What if she tripped up the stairs! How embarrassing.

But there was no way to protest it. They were leaving in the morning. Responsibility had been thrust upon her and it wasn’t like there were many other people around good enough with a bow to understand how to lead these soldiers. 

There was never a reaction from Byleth whenever Bernadetta’s eyes went wide either. She never quickly apologised and offered some calming tea, unlike Edelgard. When she was able to form the words fast enough to reply at times like this, Byleth would simply cock her head and explain it’s for the best. 

For the best, Bernadetta would think to herself. Was Byleth trying to get her killed? Or was the wall going to be empty, did Byleth intend to get Bernadetta out of the way so she couldn’t mess something up with a wayward arrow. 

And it would happen for every battle they would fight. Byleth would approach Bernadetta, give a single-sentence explanation of what would be happening, and move on to someone else. She was always much more talkative with Dorothea, though! ‘Why not with me,’ Bernadetta would think to herself. 

* * *

As always, the battles would go to plan. As much as Bernadetta wanted to protest against the plans, they would work. She just hated them. And she especially hated how Byleth wanted to communicate it. 

Even before the war, back when she was Professor Byleth, it was the same. Byleth would correct Bernadetta and have that blank stare. Nothing conveyed in it, like Bernadetta wasn’t worthy of her emotion. Even now, Bernadetta could remember running away from Byleth, fearing the unspoken words that expression hid. Dorothea had to come bring her back to class the first time it happened.

But now that things had changed, now that they were on equal footing, things were closer to a mutual distrust, in Bernadetta’s mind. Clearly, she thought, Byleth was uncomfortable with Bernadetta’s presence, but that’s okay! Not everyone had to like her, she told herself over and over again to try and speak over the anxieties. They could work together, like professionals. As much as she wanted Byleth to like her, it was okay for her not to.

Which is why now she would try to go along with it. When Byleth turned away to meet another general, Bernadetta would do her best to turn her attention to the documents. Ones that were equally as emotionless as Byleth’s expression, but at least they couldn’t hate her.

...could papers hate someone?

* * *

And not only was there a battle to be fought, but Bernadetta had archers she was responsible for. A smaller unit than most, admittedly, but lives that were nonetheless Bernadetta’s responsibility. So she did her best: she read her files, understood strategies, and, on the rare occasion she did not understand something, would approach Hubert and Edelgard for an explanation. What a strange world, to consider Hubert more approachable, but at least she could tell what he was thinking, even if it was often something terrible.

The added effort meant she consistently outperformed expectations set upon her and her squadron. They would understand plans of attack and functioned as the most cohesive unit under Emperor Edelgard’s command. 

Bernadetta was certainly not the greatest leader. But the work she would put in, to make up for what she perceived as missing out on Byleth’s command more than made up for it. 

Did this directly contradict Bernadetta’s fear that Byleth was consistently trying to push Bernadetta out of fights, either to prevent her from making things worse or to outright get the woman killed? Of course.

Did that stop her going to bed each night worrying that Byleth’s numb expressions were a sign of exactly that? Absolutely not.

She was aware of the irrational nature of it. Every so often, someone would reassure her, there was no insidious plan to remove her, no ulterior motive. “Trust Byleth,” they’d say. “She knows what she’s doing, and I promise she doesn’t hate you.”

But Bernadetta’s anxieties around Byleth’s empty expressions only made that harder. It invited more worries in. It made her question everything: where did Byleth go? Why is her hair suddenly the same as Rhea’s, when Rhea was apparently a beast in human clothing this whole time? Why was she so set on supporting Edelgard?

These were all easy questions to answer, but hard to believe when a fear was so set in Bernadetta’s mind. Her mind would wander from those expressions, to a fear of not waking up in the morning, to worrying about Byleth’s true intentions, and eventually loop around, back to the cornerstone of it all: her father telling her that she’s a terrible leader, and a terrible leader gets people killed. 

So there was no option but to work harder. No more hiding-in-her-room Bernie. More hard-working Bernie. Studying, training, practicing. Make up for it all, make up for the fact she was, in her own mind, not good enough for the roles she was placed in. 

* * *

During the war, and even before Byleth’s return, Bernadetta had left her shell. A combination of support from her classmates and the trauma of the world she grew up in being upended meant that she needed to leave her room. It certainly wasn’t easy, and there were more than enough evenings crying to make that clear, but it, at least, was progress. Something different.

Bernadetta, years prior, had not been a good student. She wasn’t a class clown, not like Caspar, but actually getting her to do the work was a challenge. Her anxieties and fears spoke over the words her professors spoke. 

And similarly she was rarely a good soldier. Some people enjoyed the physical activity of training. Others used it to distract from the rest of their work. For Bernadetta, this was not the case. 

Her body would ache! She’d end up sweaty and gross! And, even when she tried, she wasn’t as good as the others! The only reason Bernadetta had become an archer was because she thought it was more about skill than strength, and was too shy to drop out when she found out how much upper body strength it required. A fear of embarrassing yourself was, much as she loathed to admit, a motivator.

And that had snowballed. Responsibility had been given to her. And now that she had responsibility, she had people to look after. She had friends in Garreg Mach who would risk their lives for Edelgard’s mission. 

This was, in her mind, a mistake. But it was a mistake nobody seemed to understand, because as much as she initially protested these positions, she would continue being put in them. 

And every time, people came close to dying. 

This wasn’t like a regular job, she couldn’t just do bad work for two weeks until expectations were lowered. If she did a bad job, people would die. Her friends, who she valued so greatly, would die. It wasn’t an option to not to do well, because if that happened, the only tethers she had would disappear in a flash of magic and hail of steel. 

There was no option but to work hard. If she overworked herself, that was fine, because it would protect her friends. The few people who understood her.

Which was how she managed to pluck up the courage to approach Byleth as she walked out of the dining hall one evening.

* * *

“Professor...uh, I mean, Byleth, can I talk to you?”

She nodded. There wasn’t a smirk or anything, a giggle at Bernadetta’s innocent mistake. Just a flat stare. 

“Of course. Is something the matter?” Her voice was dry.

“No, uh, well, yes? Sort of. Sorry, I, uh, hm. You sort of bring out my old bad habits.” Bernadetta could feel her leg twitching from the nerves. 

“Take your time.”

She took a deep breath. Don’t waste Byleth’s time, she thought, that would just make her hate you more. Breathe, calm down, get the words out. 

“Why, uh, why don’t you explain your plans to me?” 

“Oh, do I not? I’m sorry, I thought I gave you the files this week?”

“You did! You did, but, uh, but, it’s not explaining it, right? You just sort of...handed it to me and walked away.”

“I did.”

“And I wanted to know if that’s because you hate me!”

“I’m sorry?”

“You didn’t talk to me so I thought maybe you just hate me or my voice or talking to me or-” 

Bernadetta cut herself off before the sentence ran on far enough that her emotions would explode out. 

“No, I just didn’t think there was much for me to say.”

“There was an entire battle planned out!”

“Which was all in the papers? Sorry if I missed a page or-”

“But that’s not _saying_ it, Byleth!”

Bernadetta had balled her hands into fists, but not aggressively. She pushed them out to her sides, flustered and confused by the conversation. 

“Would you mind, Bernadetta, if I explained why I don’t vocalise it?”

Byleth’s head was cocked. This was the first physical show of emotion that Bernadetta could read: one part confusion, one part concern, and two parts worry. Not the reaction of someone who wanted to kill her, but that only made Bernadetta panic more.

“P-please.”

Byleth took a step backwards, leaning against a stone wall.

“You learn better from books, papers, and texts. I know I’ve made you uncomfortable before by explaining things, and I also know that nobody else is as good as you at actually reading the papers I give out. Edelgard can be forgetful, Hubert is sometimes confident to a fault, Petra is maybe the only one who can compare, but she gets very different papers, given she has a more independent role, and…”

She coughed, composing herself by ending the sentence prematurely.

“I got carried away comparing you, I’m sorry. What I’m saying is: I don’t want to hurt you by saying the wrong things, and I know you’re smart, capable, and hard-working enough to make up for my silence. You’re an excellent archer and general, Bernadetta, because of the work you put into understanding my strategies.”

“Then why are you so _mean_ about it when you give them!”

“Mean? I’m...sorry, I’m not quite sure what you mean by that.”

Bernadetta was doing everything she could to hold back the outburst, she could feel a muscle in her neck spasm. She wondered if she wasn’t being clear.

Her mind always returned to how this was her fault. 

“W-well, you look so empty when we’re talking. Even now, you’re not smiling or grimacing or anything! S-so...I just...worry that you hate me?”

“You think I look...empty?”

“No, uh, yes? Sort of?”

Byleth sighed and looked down at the floor. She shuffled her feet awkwardly, another rare show of her feelings. 

“I’m sorry,” Bernadetta stuttered, “was that rude of me to say?”

“You wouldn’t know, it’s fine. It’s fine. Just…” She sighed once again. Bernadetta was internally panicking, but did her best to suppress it. Her eyes welled up, but that was all that came out.

“Would you mind if we spoke somewhere more private, Bernadetta?” Byleth asked, gesturing towards her room. None of this was expected, certainly not the personal invitation into Byleth’s space. Her belief that Byleth despised her cracked a little.

Led across the grass of Garreg Mach, Bernadetta followed three steps behind Byleth. Just far enough that she felt like she had the space to think as they walked. She thought better when there wasn’t the presence of another person over her. It wasn’t long before Byleth opened her door and gestured Bernadetta in.

Her room was unexpectedly cluttered. Certainly not dirty, and messy wasn’t quite the right word either. It was more like she needed more space, a few more square feet to fit in the books, give the chalkboard a little breathing room. Her things pushed up against the wall, as if once pressure was applied for long enough, the room could expand beyond the brick and stone.

Byleth closed the door behind Bernadetta, looking over to see if the girl was visibly anxious, and if locking it would only make her more worried. She decided not to. No need to worry Bernadetta with the clunk of a locking door. 

“I want to apologise, first of all. I was curt with you because I thought you worked best from documents, plans, written words. I thought explaining in-depth was stressful, and that your capability more than made up for it.

“I see now that I didn’t make that clear. And for that, I’m sorry. It wasn’t that I had ill intent, nor that I dislike talking to you. I just...rarely vocalise those feelings. And struggle to physically represent them too.”

Bernadetta was slowly but surely pulling the hem of her skirt apart as she listened, unpicking strands through the anxiety just so that she was doing something with her hands. 

“When you said I look empty...I am. Sort of. I don’t particularly want to go into the details, it’s not something I fully understand myself. I know I don’t emote much. Smiling, laughing, all that stuff.”

Bernadetta interjected. 

“I don’t want to make you do things you don’t want! I’m sorry for insulting you, professor!”

For once, Byleth did laugh, a low chuckle to herself and a slight smirk. 

“You really should stop calling me professor.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay. And it’s fine that you’re uncomfortable with it. I am too. And I’m trying to be better and, you know…”

Byleth forced a smile. It was hard to tell if the fact it was so forced was part of the joke or not.

Across the floor, shuffling her feet but trying not to kick some books in the process, Bernadetta wasn’t sure how to respond. Her heart was worn on her sleeve whether she liked it or not. There was no such thing as a hidden reaction from her, anything was let out the moment she felt it. Sometimes before she felt it. It was hard for her to understand that disconnect.

“I...I’m not uncomfortable with it. I...don’t want to tell you that who you are is wrong? I know it’s not like everyone is always as obvious as me. I’m sorry for insulting you like that, even though it wasn’t intentional. I always…”

Before Bernadetta could turn that into a self-deprecating moment, Byleth interrupted her.

“We can’t both stand here apologising back and forth forever.”

While Byleth didn’t smile to show it, Bernadetta recognised that one as a joke. She laughed for the both of them. 

“I don’t want to change you, Byleth. I just...can I ask one thing?”

“Of course. And to pre-empt one question, no, I don’t hate you.”

“Ah, hm,” Bernadetta mumbled, cheeks burning up. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling, sometimes? A flat ‘good,’ ‘bad,’ ‘hopeful,’ maybe.”

“Gladly, Bernadetta. And may I ask something of you?”

“Of course? What could I possibly do?”

“Don’t wait 4 months to tell me you’re scared of me, Bernadetta.”

Byleth didn’t mind Bernadetta’s comments, what she did mind was the feeling that this had sat stewing away for some time, that this was an accidental source of anxiety for the woman most at risk of it. She minded the fact Bernadetta did not feel comfortable or able to bring this up. She minded that her demeanor meant Bernadetta, or someone like her, would rather exist uncomfortably out of fear than resolve it. 

It wasn’t her responsibility to fix every anxious woman she met. It was her responsibility to be good to a friend.

“I...I’ve been scared of you, Byleth, and I didn’t want to interrupt you when you’re fishing.”

“Trust me, Bernadetta, if there’s someone who I trust not to scare the fish away, it’s you.”

She giggled to herself.

“If you can promise...that you’re not secretly thinking about how terrible I am, or that you’re trying to get me killed, that would at least put me at ease.”

“I can absolutely confirm none of that is true. Would you rather I tell you what I do think of you?”

With a nervous smile, Bernadetta shook her head.

“I’d rather not be overwhelmed. But another time.”

“Of course. And I’ll try to be a little more obvious and explicit in my actions.”

“Thank you.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know that Byleth never corrects students on calling them professor but who cares about canon right?


End file.
